The truth was pieced together on the night of the third day.
It came neither from the government nor the proclamations of cultivators, but rather emerged bit by bit from several seemingly unrelated clues.
The first sign appeared at a small Taoist temple in the southern part of the city. The incense offerings there were sparse, and the deity enshrined was not the local Sea God, but a rare "Dharma Image." It featured the face of a young boy, feet treading upon lotus patterns, with a single point of vermilion light between his brows. The wood carvings beneath the altar had been blurred by time, yet two characters remained legible:
Ling Zhu (Spirit Pearl).
Standing before the statue, the Snow Rabbit felt a faint tremor in her heart. This was no random creation of a mortal's imagination; it had been carved by a cultivator according to the "True Spirit's Aura." Despite its age, a lingering trace of pure, sharp edge remained.
"This is no ordinary child," she whispered.
The clue was soon corroborated elsewhere.
An elderly cultivator in the city had initially remained tight-lipped. It wasn't until the Red Fox revealed his identity as a disciple of the Jiejiao Sect—clarifying they were only observing and had no intention of interfering—that the old man finally spoke with hesitation.
"That child..." The old cultivator lowered his voice, "His origins are not of this mortal world."
He spoke slowly, yet with absolute certainty.
The Chan Sect. Taiyi Zhenren. The reincarnation of Lingzhuzi.
When these names were linked together, every jarring detail suddenly found a rational explanation. Why he could walk upon the waves; why he held miraculous weapons in his hands; why, when faced with the pure bloodline of the Dragon Clan, he could slay them on the spot.
That was not a mortal defying heaven, nor was it a demon causing chaos. It was one of the predestined Karmas of Heaven.
"No wonder," the Red Fox muttered as they left.
Lingzhuzi was born for slaughter; reincarnating as a human was merely changing shells. With the protection of Taiyi Zhenren, if the Third Prince of the East Sea had acted according to common sense, it would have looked as though he were intentionally colliding with Fate itself.
But precisely because of this, the problem grew even larger.
It was impossible for the Dragon King not to know. The Dragon Clan of the East Sea occupies the four seas; information flows rapidly. A variable of Lingzhuzi's caliber could not be entirely hidden from the Dragon Palace. If the Dragon King truly only sought to mourn his son, why choose the method of "Raising the Waters to Drown the City"?
That wasn't revenge. It was a demonstration of power.
At night, the Red Fox and the Snow Rabbit once again climbed to the high ground along the coast.
The tide had risen another three inches since the previous day, yet it remained firmly suppressed beneath an invisible boundary. The Dragon King's will hung there, suspended, refusing to fall.
"If he truly wanted revenge," the Snow Rabbit said softly, "his target shouldn't be Chentang Pass."
The Red Fox nodded.
"Lingzhuzi is here, but he was not the choice of this city," he said. "If the Dragon King wants to settle a debt, he should seek out the Chan Sect, Taiyi Zhenren, or even the Heavens."
Yet, he chose the people of a single city—those most easily sacrificed.
This was coercion. To force the Imperial Court to state its position. To force the cultivation world to pick a side. To force the Human King, whose brilliance had yet to be revealed, to make a choice.
"What the Dragon King wants might not be blood," the Snow Rabbit said slowly, "but a 'reason'."
A reason to grandly transform a flood into a Heavenly Mandate, and fury into justice.
Standing in the darkness, they suddenly realized they had been swept into an extremely dangerous undercurrent. Lingzhuzi was the storm on the surface; the true vortex lay much deeper.
"We can't leave yet," the Red Fox finally said.
It wasn't out of curiosity, but intuition. Chentang Pass would not be the end of the rumors. This place was likely the intersection where all parties were testing one another. The Chan Sect, the Dragon Clan, the Imperial Court, the will of the Human King, and even the yet-to-surface Fate of Heaven—all had cast their shadows here.
The Snow Rabbit did not object. She gazed at the distant sea, where moonlight flickered on the wave-line like countless unspoken questions.
"Stay," she said. "At least until the Dragon King truly makes his move."
The wind blew in from the sea, carrying a damp chill. Chentang Pass remained quiet, but beneath this surface stability, everything was slowly accumulating.
They felt it faintly: once this string snapped, what it triggered would be more than just the waves of the East Sea. It would be the echo of an entire era.